


Flashpoint

by RisemboolRanger



Series: Psych series [2]
Category: Psych
Genre: Crime, Detective, F/M, Humour, Multi, Mystery, Romance, Serial Killer, Thriller, Work, life - Freeform, police officer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-25
Updated: 2014-04-25
Packaged: 2018-01-20 19:23:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1522682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RisemboolRanger/pseuds/RisemboolRanger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Two Weeks Notice. Now she's achieved her dream of becoming a police officer, Rudi's eager to find her big case and finally make a difference. But when the next Yin-Yang killer starts targeting everyone else around her she starts to wonder if she's bitten off more than she can chew.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flashpoint

"Jenns, you may wanna watch out if you want to keep all your fingers!"

"What are you talking about? I do things like this all the time."

"I know you do. I'm just talking about the guy who insisted on helping so he could regain some macho points."

Nick shot me a wry smile from around the side of the wardrobe that he was helping to carry. "Very funny," he said dryly. "I don't see you doing any of the manual labour."

"Well, I'd say that heavy lifting's a man's job, but Jenns is doing much better at it than you," I giggled.

"You may not have noticed, but there's an obvious size difference here," Nick pointed out. He'd long since given up on the masculine competition against my best friend, but it didn't stop me from teasing him about it. "No offence, Jenns."

Even whilst carrying a hundred and fifty pound wardrobe, Jenns was still able to shrug. "None taken."

They eventually set the wardrobe down along the back wall of the bedroom. Jenns hadn't even broken a sweat, but Nick had to shake some of the aches out of his arms. I grinned to myself, but refrained from any further teasing. "Looks perfect!"

"Good. Because I need a few hours before I do anymore physical work," said Nick ruefully, still stretching his arms.

"Then you'd definitely better rest up before later tonight," I grinned roguishly.

The time had long gone since I'd been able to fluster him with little comments like that, but I knew it still made him uncomfortable in front of company. He cleared his throat loudly, as he often did when he was feeling awkward, and pretended he hadn't heard me. Of course, that just made it even funnier. 

I didn't care how it looked from Jenns's side. I'd heard enough graphic details of her love life to feel that this was only fair. As it was, she just rolled her eyes at us. "Get a room, guys."

Nick couldn't help but laugh at that. "We have one," he said, gesturing to the walls around us.

"We have a whole house!" I added, beaming. That fact still hadn't quite completely sunk in yet.

"Then at least let me leave before you start making the most of it."

"Sorry," I grinned sheepishly. "You don't actually have to leave."

"It's cool," Jenns dismissed me, checking her watch. "I've got another job in about an hour anyway." She slapped the side of the wardrobe twice. "So good thing we're done."

Most people would probably have carried in the heavier stuff first to get it out of the way and left the smaller furniture till last. That was what Nick had tried to point out anyway. But Jenns reckoned that carrying furniture was an exercise. You warmed up by bringing in the small stuff first, then worked up to the big heavy gear. It made sense to me, but then I wasn't doing any of the manual work myself.

"No rest for the wicked," I said sympathetically.

"Good thing I love being wicked." Jenns meant that quite literally too. She was a repo gal. And she loved her job. That was also part of what made her better than any moving van service. That and the big-ass truck she owned.

"Well, thanks for all your help," Nick told her gratefully.

"No sweat." Jenns clapped him hard on the back. He had to fight not to audibly wince.

I bit back a laugh. I probably shouldn't have found it funny to see my boyfriend in pain, but it was more just because of the relationship between the two of them. Nick was the only guy I'd ever dated who hadn't let himself be intimidated by my big, butch bestie. Which was surprising, seeing as none of the others had nearly had their ribs crushed the first time they'd met her.

Thankfully, Jenns was generally only that rough with the men. I was rewarded with a much less painful high five, rather than a back slap like Nick. I'd also learnt how to angle my palm into Jenns's high fives so that it didn't feel like she'd broken my hand.

"Catch ya tomorrow," she told me. "Later, Nick."

Jenns let herself out and then, we were finally left alone in our brand new house. Sadly, there were still things to do before it could all be fun and games just yet. Like all our new flat-pack furniture that needed building. Yeah, thanks a lot, Ikea.

"How much of a pain in the ass do you reckon this flat-pack stuff's gonna be?" I said, sitting cross-legged on my old bed. Hey, we couldn't afford new everything just yet. Plus we'd conceded that my bed was bigger.

"All I know is that I need sleep first before I do anymore work," Nick joked, lying down next to me.

I laughed and gave his shoulder a playful shove. "Come on, that's not a very manly attitude."

"Maybe I can be tempted into more work after a massage," Nick suggested with a smile.

I grinned. "Well, I could always call Jenns back for you. She reckons she gives one hell of a massage."

Nick made a face and reluctantly sat up. "Pass. I'd rather my spine stayed in one piece."

"I think I'd rather that too," I laughed again, though I obligingly shuffled up behind him and put my hands to work against his shoulders like the good girlfriend that I was. All teasing aside, I couldn't ignore that he'd done a lot of the heavy lifting whilst I'd just busted my ass watching him and Jenns.

His muscles were quite tense, but then they were always tense. Cop muscles is what I always said. I don't think any cop - or at least any cop worth his salt - ever fully relaxed, even at home. It didn't matter that Nick didn't work out in the field. He was still a police officer through and through. And let's face it; without him, I doubted I'd be where I was today.

Now I was a junior detective _and_ a homeowner. We had a mortgage and everything. I was finally starting to feel like a real adult. Up until now, it had felt more like a game of pretend. But now I got the so-called perks of having to actually make the bed every day and getting to complain about the ever-depreciating value of real estate. At least getting to decorate sounded like fun.

"I don't think I've ever been excited to go to Home Depot before," I mused out loud, kneading Nick's shoulders with my fingertips. "But it'll be fun to start decorating this place."

"Oh, so when it comes to painting and hanging wallpaper, that you'll help with?" Nick asked, amused.

"Hey, I'm all up for helping to build the flat-pack stuff too," I pointed out. And by helping, I meant likely trying to help for ten minutes, getting frustrated with the instruction manual, then going back to just watching.

"I'm sure that'll last long," Nick chuckled. He clearly knew me too well.

"What happened to this so-called faith you used to have in me?"

"It disappeared when I found out you're terrible at understanding instruction manuals."

"Very funny." I poked him in the ribs, before relenting and resting my chin on his shoulder, gazing thoughtfully around the room. "You know what? I think we should totally get a hot tub. And maybe a mini bar."

Nick laughed. "How good do you think my salary is?"

"Good enough for just the hot tub?" I teased.

"Not even close." Nick twisted back round to face me and grinned. "Besides, junior detective, you're the one who's going to be paying the bills from now on."

I smiled. "I think it'll still be a while before I get used to junior detective."

"Well, you should get used to it, because it was hard earned," Nick smiled back. "And speaking of... We haven't properly celebrated yet."

I watched questioningly as he got up off the bed and started sifting through the various bags that we'd piled into the corner for now. He pulled aside a decorative bag that I hadn't even noticed before and produced a champagne gift set from it - a bottle of my favourite pink prosecco and two matching champagne flutes. Aw, man, he was just too cute for his own good..

"Oh, wow. Who needs a mini bar when I have you?" I joked, as he sat back down beside me and tore into the gift set.

"Not to mention I'm much cheaper," he laughed, handing me the two champagne flutes from the box.

"Yeah, I've heard that's what all the cadets say," I jested.

"Do you want me to open this or not?"

"I'll be good."

"Yeah, I've heard that one before."

Nick twisted the wire from the top of the bottle and I remembered to duck just in time as the pressure of the bubbles forced the cork off in one powerful pop. Nick may have been a crack-shot when it came to shooting a gun, but he couldn't aim a champagne bottle to save his life. The last one he'd opened on our two-year anniversary had nearly taken my eye out.

Thankfully, none of the actual champagne managed to escape with the cork. Nick poured out two fizzing measures into the flutes and then set the bottle aside on the new bedside table. I teasingly pretended to hog both glasses first, before grinning and grudgingly handing one over.

"To your new promotion," he said, raising his glass with a smile.

I smiled back. The best part was that my promotion was only the tip of my very happy iceberg. I finally had the job I'd been striving for since college, I had an actual honest-to-god house that I could call my own - not an apartment; a _house_ \- and a considerably amazing boyfriend. My life was looking pretty damn good right now.

I clinked my glass against Nick's. "And to everything else I could ever ask for."

**XXX**

My first few weeks as a brand new junior detective were incredibly exciting. Any officer's job is important, but there's only so much you can take of parking tickets and basic law enforcement before you want to keel over and die. Okay, maybe a slight exaggeration, but I really, really didn't like doing parking tickets.

Plus I didn't have to wear the officer's uniform anymore. It suited Nick, but I'd never done so well in dark colours. I always seemed to manage to get my clothes really dusty - half the time, I didn't even know how. Light colours worked much better for me. As long as you had some smart clothes to dally together, then it was all good. Bye bye, uniform.

Another bonus was getting to work directly alongside a senior detective. I wasn't quite naive enough to see myself as an equal just yet, but it still put me that bit closer to it. And it was nice to get to interact with a senior officer in a way that wasn't just them delegating all of the menial work onto you.

My new partner was detective Claudia Coulson. Mid to late thirties, fairly tall for a woman, good complexion, long, tidy hair so dark it was almost black... She was your typical by-the-book, totally professional cop type. And apparently, one of the criteria for that role was being quite antisocial.

She wasn't hostile or moody, like some of the other senior detectives, but I could tell that we weren't going to be braiding each other's hair anytime soon. I felt she was approachable enough and that I could go to her if I needed help with something on the job, but it was obvious that she preferred her own company. She clearly had a wall in place to keep everyone else out. I wasn't quite brave enough to try pushing through that wall just yet.

The exciting change of those first few weeks was also coupled with a strong sense of anticipation. Now that I was a detective, I needed my case. _The_ case. The case that every officer wanted - one that would put them on the map. I'd wanted this job for a very long time, because I was determined to make a difference. Now I just needed that chance in order to make it happen.

Less than two weeks into my new job, I made it onto my first big crime scene. Or at least that was what I thought it was going to be. When we got there and scoped the place out, however, Coulson concluded that there was nothing fishy about our victim's death. After looking around, I had to reluctantly agree.

I was crushed. I'd been so excited for my first real crime scene and it had turned out to be a bust. Not to mention I now felt incredibly guilty for being so excited over the idea of a possible murder. That wasn't very cop-like. I'd just been so eager to really get stuck in. I needed to get a grip.

I then kept noticing little things. Things that could point to this being something other than an accidental death. But then, whenever I looked again, I realised that they were things that could be easily explained. I was just looking too hard. I _really_ needed to get a grip.

But then, I did notice something. Something different. Something that wasn't going to be explained away so easily. I was sure of it.

The desk chair in front of the computer had been set to its lowest point. Our victim was only a dot, probably not even brushing five foot. And from looking at the photographs around the room, her sister, who she'd been living with, was hardly any taller. No more than an inch difference, max. So why would they have the chair set so that they'd have to physically reach up to use the keyboard?

I pointed this out to Coulson, but she dismissed it in a heartbeat. "It's not that strange. If you look closely, you'll see how clean the chair and the desk area is. It was likely only cleaned within the last day or so - the chair was probably lowered to clean it."

"Oh..." What else could I say to that?

If I hadn't known better, I would have thought that Coulson looked almost sympathetic. "It's okay; every new detective feels this way. Everyone wants there to be more to a case when they start off, but sometimes, there's just nothing more to it than what's in front of you. You learn that more the longer you're on the job."

Great. Now I was being passed off as just another rookie. "Yeah, I guess."

"Good." Coulson pulled a small black recording device out of her pocket and spoke into the mouth piece. "Victim suffered a broken neck, following a fall down the stairs. Death was likely instant. Time of death estimated between ten and eleven pm. Confirmation to be gained post autopsy."

Whilst she was documenting our findings, I was still looking around the room. Coulson had pointed out how clean the desk area was. Was it really just because of some innocent spring cleaning? Or had the computer and the chair been wiped clean for another reason?

When Coulson tucked the Dictaphone back into her pocket, I opened my mouth to suggest what I was thinking, but she swiftly cut across me - I wasn't sure if it was intentional or not. "It's only natural to think you're seeing more than there is. Like I said, you'll get used to it. Now come on... It's up to the forensic team from here."

Her tone sounded pretty final, so I reluctantly held my tongue and didn't push it. I took one last look around the room, chewing my lip thoughtfully as I followed Coulson back out. I still couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more. I guessed it was nothing more than a hunch really, but I'd learnt to always trust my instincts.

Unfortunately, there wasn't really anything I could do about it. Coulson had made it clear already that I was only thinking this because I was new. And I was sure that everyone else within the department would think the same. I could hardly try chasing it up on my own either. I was a cop - I had to play by the rules. As a junior detective, I didn't even have the clearance to get search warrants. I'd just have to let this whole thing lie.

Of course, that was easier said than done. Coulson and I headed back to the police station, but all I could think about was that damn chair. All throughout the morning, it bugged me. I was so distracted by it that I spent half my lunch break just staring at my computer screen before remembering that I was supposed to be going to grab something to eat.

I cursed myself as I finally got up and headed for the vending machines. I had to admit that it was such a tiny thing that was bugging me. Was I being stupid? Was I just picking at nothing? Coulson had said that it was only natural, but I still felt that it was more than just my supposed newbie attitude.

I needed some way to put my mind to rest. Thankfully, there was someone who was always good at helping me with that. After grabbing a cold sandwich and a can of soda, I headed back to my desk. The other officers I was usually seated by were all either out on patrol or on their lunch breaks, so I could at least make my phone call in peace.

I scrolled down to Nick's number and clicked the call button. He answered on the third ring. "Hey, Rudi. How's your day going?"

"Kinda mixed," I admitted. "I actually wanted to ask you something."

"Okay, shoot," said Nick, easygoing as always. "Is this another game of Trivial Pursuit: Cop Edition?"

I laughed, remembering the same quip from way back when I'd actually been one of Nick's students at the Academy. "Kinda relative, but not exactly. When you were working in the field, did you ever have a case where you felt there was more to it than what you could see?"

Nick hesitated before replying, "No."

"Oh..." Great, so it was just me?

"But then I was only in the field for six months," Nick added. "And I was just an officer, so I was only ever involved in one big case."

He didn't elaborate on that particular case and I didn't ask him to. I already knew that it was a sore subject. When I said that most cops always wanted their big case, it hadn't quite worked out the same for Nick. Instead, his big case had put him off working in the field for good and had pushed him back to the Academy. I'd never thought there was any shame in that, but I knew Nick still felt bitter about it.

I'd clearly been silent a little too long, because Nick pressed on. "So you think there's something else to the case you're on?" I'd sent him an excited text earlier that morning, telling him that it looked like I was getting put on something interesting. He knew I'd been eager to find my break over the last few weeks.

"I think so," I replied hesitantly. "But now I'm not sure if it's just me looking for something more. I've got this feeling about it, but it's only a tiny thing that I picked up on. Coulson already dismissed it as being insignificant."

"Rudi, let me tell you something about cops."

I smiled, amused. "Okay?"

"Most cops will do everything by the book," Nick explained. "For the most part, they'll take things as they see them. They can't chase after every tiny lead they find - it isn't resourceful and they'll see it as a waste of manpower. If they have what they think is a clear-cut conclusion to a case, then they'll stick with that, unless there's strong evidence to back up another theory."

I wasn't exactly sure which part of that I was supposed to focus on. "So is it bad that I'm not thinking like most cops?" I asked uncertainly.

Nick just laughed at me. "You just think more outside the box that we call protocol. That's not a bad thing."

Okay, well, that was good at least. "So what are you saying then?"

"What I'm saying is that you can still get people to listen to what you're saying, as long as you can find more evidence to prove whatever your theory is," Nick pointed out.

Considering how small my lead was, that was hardly going to be an easy task, but I still felt better about it. I loved that Nick still had faith in me, even without knowing any finer details of the case. He hadn't even seemed to consider the possibility that I was simply imagining there being more to the case. "You don't even know what my hunch is about, but you're still going by the assumption that I'm right, aren't you?"

"Sometimes feelings are stronger than facts. And I know that your instincts are always good."

I smiled. "Thank you." If only Coulson could have that same faith in me. "But there's still one problem. How am I supposed to find more evidence? I'm not high up enough to start investigating on my own. Especially when I won't even be able to get a search warrant to get back onto the crime scene after forensics are done with it."

Nick was silent again for several long moments before saying, "I think I do know someone who can help you."

Surprise was quickly replaced by eagerness. "Really? Who?"

"If you can't find the evidence you need whilst following protocol, then you need someone who _doesn't_ always follow protocol," said Nick. It sounded like it cost him some effort to say that, which didn't surprise me. He was another of the by-the-book cops after all.

I quickly racked my brains, taking his words into account as I tried to think of who wouldn't necessarily follow protocol... And came up with a light bulb. "Wait, do you mean the detective consultants that the chief hires on some of the cases?"

I knew that the SBPD sometimes used resources outside of the department. In particular, I'd heard quite a bit about a small detective firm called Psych. From what I'd picked up, they'd helped to solve a lot of cases for us. It certainly made sense for Nick to suggest someone like that. I'd seen the two detectives around the station, but during my time as a general officer, I'd obviously never worked on any of their cases.

Again, Nick seemed almost reluctant to confirm it."Yes. Be aware that they're not at all... orthodox in their methods. But if anyone can help you with this, it's them."

Well, that sounded good enough to me. Now I was just curious as to what previous dealings Nick had had with Psych to have such strongly mixed feelings about them. Unfortunately, that would have to be a question for another time, since my lunch break was now nearly over. I made a mental note to ask about it later.

"Okay, I'll try and track them down after my shift. I'd better go though - my lunch is almost over."

"Alright, I'll see you tonight."

"And thanks for the tip. You're the best!"

Nick laughed again. "Of course I am."

After a teeny bit more teasing, we said our goodbyes and I ended the call. I then sat back in my seat with my sandwich in one hand, absent-mindedly drumming my fingers against the desk. I knew I could always count on Nick. Now I actually had something else I could chase up.

So now my only question was if I hurried up with my paperwork, then would Coulson maybe allow me to clock out early?


End file.
